


i accept

by sinfulchihuahua0602



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Collars, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfulchihuahua0602/pseuds/sinfulchihuahua0602
Summary: geralt comes back with a gift for jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	i accept

**Author's Note:**

> so apparently, geralt and jaskier are incapable of doing anything relatively sexy without Feelings getting involved. i wanted jaskier with a collar and it turned into this soft mess. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Geralt comes into Jaskier’s room at Oxenfurt one night with tension in every line of his body. They’d decided to winter here together, instead of splitting up, and Jaskier had thought that Oxenfurt was quite welcoming for a Witcher - and if not, he’d be happy to make it so.   
  


Seeing Geralt now, though, had Jaskier wondering if Oxenfurt wasn’t as open as it seemed. 

He set his lute and journal aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, gradually rising, because the way Geralt looked now reminded Jaskier far too much of a threatened animal. He takes slow steps towards his Witcher - he doesn’t want him to be scared of Jaskier, of all people. Geralt stands frozen as Jaskier stops two steps away from him, trying to broadcast his emotions as much as he could in his scent by thinking about them as much as possible.

Concern and reassurance radiate off of his bard, Geralt can smell it. Jaskier’s concern is the salty tang of ocean water - waves, lapping against rocks gently. Not pressing, but still there. And his reassurance smells like smoke - like a fire burning in a fireplace, like the warm rug in front of that fireplace that one could sit on and tell all their troubles to the fire, which would burn on, steady and non-judgmental.

Together, Geralt could barely resist it.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks softly. “What happened? What’s going-”

He cuts off abruptly, his attention drawn away from Geralt’s face by his hand as it comes out suddenly from behind his back and out towards him. Geralt curses silently, but he can’t take it back now, because Jaskier’s fingers are brushing lightly against his palm as he picks up the thing held in it. Geralt feels his heartbeat pick up, the Witcher equivalent of ‘racing.’

It’s a thin black leather cord, with a simple silver medallion hanging off of it carved in the shape of Geralt’s wolf medallion. The pendant is much more elegant and simple than Geralt’s - made for Jaskier’s style - and Jaskier studies it, sending a curious look up at Geralt. 

“Geralt? What’s this?” 

Geralt finds he can’t get the words out. Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, he knew Jaskier wouldn’t like it. 

He stands frozen for a silent moment, with Jaskier’s blue eyes flicking up to him occasionally, and forces the words out. “It’s- a collar,” he says, stiltedly. “I thought-” 

He stops, swallows. “I thought you’d… like it. Some- some couples do, and sometimes I get...”

He doesn’t want to finish that sentence. He doesn’t want to tell Jaskier that sometimes, when his bard is singing and performing and  _ flirting,  _ flitting about so easy and carefree, he thinks about how Jaskier is a bird that can fly away anytime. He thinks about the mountain, how the bitter taste of Jaskier’s hurt rested on his tongue and in his nose, how the memory of blue eyes filled with pain haunted him for months before he finally apologized. Geralt doesn’t want to hurt Jaskier like that again, and this-

He just wants a reminder, that’s all. If Jaskier accepts it, that he won’t leave him, that Jaskier’s promises that he will not leave him are true.

But, he should’ve known. He knew he would fuck it up somehow, and this is when it’s too much. Jaskier will say no, will be horrified that Geralt would want to lay a claim like that on him, and will finally realize who he’s supposedly in love with. It will have all been a lie, like so many others.

“ _ Geralt,”  _ Jaskier says, and there’s a strange note in his voice. Geralt looks at him, golden eyes meet blue, and he frowns. There’s no hatred in his gaze, no fear stinging Geralt’s nose. 

No, his bard’s eyes are... sparkling. With… with happiness, he thinks, and- and love?

Geralt doesn’t have time to process this before Jaskier is leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. Geralt’s eyes fall closed automatically, because he’s practically conditioned at this point to savor every bit of affection Jaskier gives him, and melt under it too, but he doesn’t let himself hope. He doesn’t know what’s happening, whether it’s accepted, and he isn’t going to let his hopes be crushed.

Jaskier pulls back, a bright grin on his lips as he loops his arms around Geralt’s neck. “I do accept, Geralt. And, if you don’t let me take you to bed right now-”

Geralt frowns again, tilts his head. “You- accept?” he asks, voice impossibly fragile. Jaskier’s grin fades to something more solemn, and he nods.

“Yes, I accept, of course I do. But, could you tell me exactly why you want me to wear this?” he asks. 

Geralt lets out a breath, eyes flicking away from Jaskier, until he feels him press two fingers lightly against his jaw. “Geralt,” he says quietly, and Geralt can’t fight that. He meets Jaskier’s blue eyes, the scent of smoke filling his nose -  _ reassurance,  _ he tells himself, and suddenly the words are pouring out.

He never could resist Jaskier.

“It’s a reminder. For me,” he says quietly, feeling his sudden confidence drop the further he gets, but he keeps going anyway. “That you won’t leave.”

Jaskier’s expression softens, somehow understanding all that Geralt didn’t say, and suddenly all the Witcher can smell is dandelions and wild grass and wood oil. It’s Jaskier’s traditional scent, beneath all of the emotions, and it’s nothing new. He’s smelled it constantly, ever since he first met the bard. Geralt knows it as well as his own swords.

Except, the scent is stronger now, wrapping around Geralt as Jaskier steps forward and kisses Geralt, again. It’s soft, slow, and suddenly Geralt realizes the scent he’s smelling is  _ love.  _ Jaskier has a capacity for love for everyone, that’s why he could always smell it, but it always got stronger around Geralt, more permanent, where he could scent when it faded around certain other people. 

Geralt’s eyes are still closed when Jaskier pulls back, warm breath blowing across Geralt’s jaw as he speaks softly.

“I’ll never leave you, Geralt.”

Geralt frowns slightly, opening his eyes and meeting Jaskier’s sincere gaze. “Are you sure?”

A smirk curls Jaskier’s lips as he backs Geralt up against the door to his room, pressing one hand wide against his chest and another kiss to his lips. He pulls back, making eye contact, blue eyes filled with mischief.

“Let me show you how sure I am.”


End file.
